


All the Money in the Bank

by pf_lz



Series: Money [2]
Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: Emily is precious, Established Relationship, F/F, Lesbians, Married Couple, Married Life, No Smut, Polyamory, mainly fluff and banter tho, plot will be somewhat sparse, poly bellas, they're all very gay, this might be fun
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-23
Updated: 2018-07-07
Packaged: 2019-05-27 13:45:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15025928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pf_lz/pseuds/pf_lz
Summary: She's a former agent of the FBI. She knows she shouldn't be doing this. But she could never deny her girls when they teamed up on her. And that's what lead to her current situation: sitting on their brand new table, agreeing to break the law. For fun.All she wanted right now was for Fat Amy to have never existed. It would be nice if God agreed with her on that.





	1. Chapter 1

 

Aubrey awoke to Stacie climbing on top of her and laying her body fully against hers, forehead against forehead, whispering to her. “I missed you so much Bree! You wouldn’t believe how needy the rest of the girls got without you to boss them around. _I_ had to take control and tell them what to do. _And_ none of them wanted to have sex without you, so I’m going to need you to wake up and take me.”

Aubrey blinked and took a second to process all that her brunette wife had said. “Oh wow you really are a lot to handle in the morning.”

Stacie smiled in response, “I try to be as upbeat as possible in the morning, you know this, sweet-stuff. Mainly to counteract Beca’s grumpiness, but it works all the same for you. I love your sweatshirt, by the way. _Barden Bellas, ICCA Champs._ Whose is it? And how are you sleeping with long sleeves on?”

When the blonde tried to respond, Stacie leaned down and kissed her lips, threading her hands through the curly locks. A tongue forced its way into Aubrey’s mouth and she moaned – loud enough to rouse Beca from her slumber.

The girl opened her eyes with a groan, and Aubrey turned her head from the kiss to look at the short brunette. She was sprawled out over the space Stacie had vacated, hand missing the breast it had been squeezing through the night. “Who the hell turned the sun on this early? And where is my hand rest? Stace?” Beca questioned.

The woman in question giggled, told Beca. “Open your eyes and see who’s here.”

“They’re already open and they’re blind because someone decided to turn the sun on when it was supposed to be off until nine,” she groused. But she turned her head to the side anyways, and the smile on Beca’s face was genuine, going from ear to ear. “Bree! Stace, get off of her. I want to kiss her.” Stacie obliged, and rolled off to where she had been during the night. Beca crawled over her, not pausing to kiss her as she usually would, and pounced on top of Aubrey. “I love you. It felt so lonely without you here. I had to step up my complaining or our girls ears would have been much too clear.” She punctuated her sentence with a bite of Aubrey’s bottom lip, pulled it lightly, let it fall out from between her teeth. Beca then pressed her lips to her wife's, and massaged them until her mouth opened and the kiss deepened. She pulled away after a moment, claiming, “Your mouth tastes like you just woke up. Gross.” Her nose wrinkled cutely in agreement.

“Conrad didn’t have a problem with it.”

“That’s because Conrad is a crazed horn-dog who would do anything to be touched right now.”

The leggy brunette gasped, affronted: “I am not! You take that back!” Her mouth curved into a smile, belaying her words.

Beca and Aubrey giggled lightheartedly, and Beca moved her left arm to cover Stacie’s side and squeezed her waist tight. “You know I love you too, tits. Wait, no – that was wrong. You know I love your tits, you. That’s what I meant.”

Stacie escaped from underneath Beca’s grasp and extended her right arm out – for she was laying on her left side at this point – and pushed Beca. But Beca, being the tiny woman she is, slipped off of Aubrey’s body and fell on top of Chloe, waking her with a loud, “Oomph!”

Chloe groaned and Beca quickly maneuvered her body around until she was on her hands and knees, hovering on top of her. “I am so so so sorry for waking you babe! But it was all Stace’s fault – she pushed me off Aubrey! Where I was comfortably resting.” Her head turned to the tall girl and her brow furrowed in a glare.

“You provoked me!” Stacie exclaimed.

Chloe looked up at Beca, then up and down her body, stated calmly, “I’ll blame Stace for waking me up, then. She usually does anyways – usually in a _much_ better way – so what’s another board spot for her?”

Aubrey looked at Beca and noticed she was staring right at her before she rolled her eyes. “You’re rewarding her for waking you up. Typical Chloe.” Then she directed her question at Aubrey. “How come we’re never on Chloe’s sex board?”

Chloe giggled and wrapped her arms around Beca’s neck and pulled her down. “Oh is my poor girl upset? Does she need a kiss?”

“I’m not a child, Chlo,” Beca pouted, but she accepted anyway, then let her head rest against her girl’s chest. “How is she still asleep?” She nodded her head towards Emily whose face was covered by a pillow and her arms and legs spread out wide, and Chloe shrugged.

Aubrey was distracted by the exchange until Stacie reclaimed her spot, attempting to press her body from tip to toe to hers. “Ow!” Aubrey yelped, “Careful with your elbow! That was my rib you hit, you dolt.”

Stacie’s eyes crinkled apologetically and she slid down Aubrey’s body, pulling Emily’s sweatshirt up to the underside of the bra. Her hands pressed lightly on the bottom rib on Aubrey’s right side – Stacie’s left – and asked, “This rib?” Aubrey shook her head no. The hand moved up and repeated her question. Another shake of Aubrey’s head, another question, and then a nod. Stacie bent down, lightly pressed her lips against the rib and moved from the side all the way to the center of her chest. “Better now?” She asked, her breath tickling against the smooth skin. Aubrey shook her head _no_ again, curls shaking wildly, face innocent, and Stacie pressed kisses in reverse, stopping when she couldn’t bend her neck any further.

“Better now. Kiss me?” Aubrey pleaded, and Stacie pulled the sweatshirt back down, then moved back up her body. The two kissed, and Aubrey heard Chloe let out a small, “ _Awww.”_

Beca muttered to Chloe, “You’re such a sap, Beale.” Chloe just nodded, mouth pulled up in a huge smile. It was then that Emily woke up, arms rustling through the sheets. When she found Chloe’s hand, she squeezed it and sighed contentedly. “Em? You up?”

Emily hummed affirmatively, and when she realized it was Saturday and that Aubrey had come home Friday night, bolted upright. “Bree? Did Bree make it back? Is she here?” When Stacie leaned back, sitting on Aubrey’s waist, Emily saw the woman in question underneath Stacie. Emily pulled her legs out from underneath the covers, moving until she was right against Beca and Chloe.. She laid her torso across Beca’s back, her arms reaching underneath the blonde’s head and covering her lips with her own.

“Doesn’t her mouth taste bad?” Aubrey heard from Beca, and she pinched her as Emily pulled back to nod her head _yes_ , although she looked remorseful doing it.

Aubrey narrowed her eyes at all of them. “None of yours tasted very good either, but I was being courteous about.”

The glare that the four chastised girls received silenced them all. Chloe broke the silence: “Sorry Bree, but as fun as all this early morning banter has been, if these two girls don’t get off of me right now, I’m going to pee. And I don’t think any of y’all are into that kink.” The girls scrambled off of Chloe as quickly as possible.

In a typical Stacie fashion, the woman flirted, “I’m willing to give it a shot.” She winked at Aubrey, and the girl shoved her lightly.

“Gross. That is so gross. There will be none of… _that_ in this relationship,” Aubrey demanded.

“Don’t knock it till you try it, blondie,” Beca quipped, eager to join in on the teasing.

Aubrey pinched Beca again. “Please stop. Please.”

Her hands went to her forehead and slid down to cover the rest of her face when she heard Emily and Chloe chime in with “That would be so much fun!” and “You’re not scared of a little water, are ya babe?” from the two of them, respectively.

“I will make sure every single one of you goes without sex for a month if you mention it again.” Their silence was agreement to her ears. With her wives successfully cowed, she pushed Stacie off of her and headed to the bathroom to brush her teeth.

The rustle of the bed and the padding of what she assumed to be Chloe’s feet followed her; Chloe’s arms slipped around her as she put a toothbrush in her mouth, began brushing, and the woman whispered in her ear, “I’m sorry sweetie. Do you want me to make it up to you?” She shook her head _no_ and shrugged the arms off of her, then nudged her towards the toilet. The door to the toilet shut, and she heard the rest of the girls make their way to the bathroom. She and Stacie shared a sink, the one on the left, Beca with Emily on the right, and Chloe had her own sink in the center of the over-sized vanity.

Her sink mate came up next to her, and kissed her cheek, causing Aubrey to turn away to try and hide her smile. “Are you using my toothbrush to clean your dirty mouth?” The curvaceous Bella accused, and Aubrey raised her shoulders in response. She took the brush out, spat in the sink, then rinsed her mouth and the toothbrush with water.

“There. It’s all clean for you.”

“That’s so gross. Did you use my toothbrush on purpose? Because if you did, I actually think that’s kinda sexy, you getting revenge and all.” The accompanying wink made Aubrey roll her eyes. “Do we have any more toothbrushes, Em?” Emily shook her head in the negative after looking through her sink’s drawers, and when Stacie looked at Beca, the woman also shook her head _no_ after checking Chloe’s sink. “Are you really going to make me use a used toothbrush? Because that’s cruel and unusual punishment, I’m sure of it. I’ll take you to court, Bree. And I’ll win.” There was no response other than the brush poking her in the arm. She took it, moped out, “Fine. But we’re getting more of these things _to-day._ This is inhumane, Bree. I can’t believe you’d do this to your own wife!” But Aubrey didn’t respond, and so Stacie put some toothpaste on the brush, ran water over it, then started brushing her teeth. Her mopey mood didn’t last long, and she was soon humming a tune while brushing.

When Emily joined in brushing and humming, Beca was quick to put a stop to it before Chloe could join in with her singing. “Nope. You two,” she said, pointing to Emily and Stacie, “are going to stop that humming business right now. Just because you want every activity you do to be ‘aca-amazing’ does not mean it will be. It can be just regular amazing.”

Chloe waltzed back into the rest of the bathroom, as chipper as a person could possibly be. Aubrey watched as she washed her hands, then brushed her teeth, as Beca brushed her teeth after Emily had finished. “Now that all of our mouths are clean, who wants to give me a kiss? I know you missed me this past week.”

Still not over the brush stealing incident, her sink mate pointedly turned her head away, and Emily was the first one over to her, slightly pushing Chloe and Beca out of the way. Her kiss was full of the typical Emily over-enthusiasm, teeth clacking together on occasion. But the kiss was good, love and happiness mixing together in a perfect fusion, Aubrey moaning her approval. Then the kiss was over, and Chloe’s lips were on hers, her typical minty freshness spreading throughout her mouth. Vaguely, she could hear Beca complaining that the two of them already kissed last night, but the words didn’t do much more than make her pull Chloe’s head closer, hands tangled in the red strands. When Chloe pushed her against the sink, suddenly Beca was there, pulling her head down and pushing her ass against the counter top, urging her to sit on it. She obliged and kissed her wife back fiercely, tongue probing deep into Beca’s mouth, taking control of the kiss. And then she slipped down from the counter, wrapped both hands underneath Beca’s ass and lifted. The short girl understood and jumped, squeezing her legs around Aubrey’s torso tightly. The two continued to kiss for a short while, moans and pants being traded back and forth like a commodity. Eventually, Stacie grew tired of being excluded, and forcefully – but gently – separated the two, and Aubrey let Beca’s legs slip from her grasp. When they disconnected, Stacie was quick to step up and try to take control. But Aubrey was having none of it, and quickly pinned her against the wall near the door to the bathroom, mouths intertwined. Stacie usually preferred to be the aggressor in the largerrelationship, the one in control, but with Aubrey, she always submitted without hesitation. Her mouth was a thing for her wife to kiss, her lips a thing to be bitten and pulled, her ass to be squeezed. Aubrey knew the arousal her actions had provoked in Stacie, and was determined to make her squirm even more. She slid her lips down her neck, pressing opened mouth kisses all over; she migrated to the left side of her neck – from Aubrey’s perspective – and slowly opened her mouth, then bit down softly, yet still hard enough to make Stacie’s knees give out and a moan to unfold from her throat. The blonde caught her taller wife before she fell down more than an inch, pressed her forearms into the top of her chest to keep her upright.

Aubrey removed her lips from the neck and examined her work: there were clear bite marks, but it wouldn’t bruise. She was pleased with the job she had done, especially the state she had reduced the woman into. One of her girls started clapping, then the other two joined in. She turned around to look at them, cradling Stacie in her arms, who was still too sexually overwhelmed to function. Emily’s face and chest were flushed, Beca looked slightly flustered but Chloe was grinning spectacularly, and she was the first to say anything. “Please give us another show because that was like w-a-a-a-ay too hot.”

She blushed, slightly embarrassed by the possessiveness and power she had exerted over Stacie. “I got carried away?”

Beca sniggered slightly. “If that’s you getting carried away, please get carried away with me right now.”

Emily tried speaking, but the only sound that came out of her throat was a stuttering groan and Chloe pulled her to her chest and patted her back. “You broke poor little innocent Emily, Bree. How could you do that? She’s too nice to see something that dirty.”

Aubrey snorted, “We were literally talking about her _nipple_ piercings last night, Chlo. She’s not innocent.” The girls in Chloe and Aubrey’s arms let out a mewl in response.

“I did a good job, right?” Stacie pulled her head out of the crook of Aubrey’s neck and looked at Chloe for affirmation.

“The best. They’re a lot of fun to play with.”

A hum of agreement rang out from Aubrey’s throat as she tried to get her dead-weight to stand up and support herself: “Come on Stace, I’m going to need you to stand up. You’re getting heavy.”

She stood up, her weight own her own feet, a growl coming out of her stomach. Her mouth turned up sheepishly, “What? I’m hungry.” Aubrey rolled her eyes at Stacie, then walked out of the bathroom with a smack on Stacie’s rear and a call for breakfast.

* * *

 

“What’re ya cooking, Beale?” Stacie questioned, taking a seat at the bar top. Emily grabbed her left hand and began playing with it as she sat down. To Emily’s left sat Beca, and on the other side of Stacie was Aubrey, at the edge of the counter top as it ended at the main entrance to the kitchen. Behind them was the new table, the one the girls had just finished setting for breakfast.

Chloe’s voice cried out, “Beignets! I made the dough up in the afternoon yesterday just to surprise my favorite Southern Belle who was coming home to me.” Her accompanying smile was bright, and Emily made a small cooing noise.

“Don’t we just have the best wife in the entire world?”

“You mean the one who makes pee jokes? That wife? I think I’m a far better wife than she is, legs,” insisted Aubrey, pointing her finger from the redhead and back to herself.

At the claim, the other two girls, Stacie and Beca, tried to stake their claim as _The Best Wife_ , but Chloe silenced them with a sharp and short whistle. Beca’s hands went to her ears, her mouth opened to complain and protest, but Chloe cut her off chidingly: “Stop inciting a riot, blondie. That goes for you too, short-stuff, and you, tits.” She wagged her finger at Aubrey, Beca and Stacie in turn. “I only want to hear productive conversations in my kitchen.”

There was a pause in the conversation, as all four sitting at the bar watched the activity in the kitchen. The dough had just finished its second rise, and Chloe began to cut it into medium-sized rectangles with a sharp, freshly polished knife; from its shape, it looked to be a paring knife, the same type of knife Chloe always used when she was cutting dough. The corners of Aubrey’s lips down-turned slightly as she realized she had missed Chloe’s weekly session of polishing and sharpening her precious knife collection. Wednesday nights were usually her favorite night of the week, partially for that reason. (Most of the rest was because of the sex that inevitably came afterwards). All of them would sit at the dinner table – the old dinner table, full of character that Aubrey would sorely miss (even though she knew it was too small and too dinged up to continue using) – and Chloe would get out her whole knife kit.

First, she placed a large mat down to cover the table and minimize the bounce of any metal shavings. Then followed the numerous hand-held knife sharpeners that she would stand on the counter by the range and get out from the top cabinet, passing them down to Emily who was always eager to help. She usually only brought down three of them, claiming the fourth and fifth ones were too hard for her to reach. The honing rods were next – a different one for each of Chloe’s nine different types of sharp utensils that she used while cooking, followed by polishing stones, cloths, and oil.

After she had arranged the aforementioned pieces in order of use on the left side of the table, from coarse to fine, she began to pull out her knives. The Chef’s, Santoku, utility, paring, carving, boning, and steak knives, followed by the meat cleaver and kitchen shears were all placed on the long mat that ran the length of the table. She always began with the meat cleavers (even though she didn’t use them near as often as she wished, she had confided to Aubrey one night), which was Beca’s favorite to watch. After that, the Santoku, then the big Chef’s knife, followed by carving, boning, paring and utility knives. She usually took a break at this point and whoever was sitting on either side of her would grab an arm and massage all the way up and down it until Chloe was ready to resume. The bevy of steak knives came next – _who needs two eight person sets of steak knives?_ Aubrey could never stop that thought from rising to the forefront of her mind – catenated by the dismantling of the kitchen shears and subsequent sharpening and honing. She proceeded to polish the utensils in the reverse order that she had sharpened them, starting with the stones, then rubbing off any shavings with the cloth. Her hands would rub a drop of oil onto the blade slowly and carefully with a soft washcloth, truncating the polishing by wiping any excess oil off from the blade and handing it over to one of the girls to put away when she was done.

Watching Chloe polish her knives, watching her toned arms and the methodical technique she used always got her wives hot and bothered, ready to take her to bed. But – for her especially (though she suspected that Emily enjoyed it even more, if the way she was usually short of breath and gasping at the end were anything to go by) – it was the knives that really made their blood boil with arousal. The danger they presented, the way Chloe was dedicated to them like she was to her girls, the way Chloe would run her finger along the blade to test the uniformity of her sharpening… it made them drag Chloe up the stairs, usually stripping her on the way.

The sound of the oil bubbling as the dough hit the oil-filled cast iron pot snapped Aubrey out of her memories. Aubrey focused her eyes back on Chloe as she put a mesh lid on top of the pot to keep the oil from splashing out. Emily’s sweet voice rang out and, ever the helpful one, queried, “Do you want some help, ginger?”

“Only if you want to.” Chloe’s left hand grasped the handle of the mesh screen and she lifted it up before flipping the beignets with a pair of tongs. Emily ambled over to her, stopped, waited for orders. “Okay now I need you to take over for me because I need to go tinkle again.” She lifted up on her toes and placed a kiss on her cheek and watched as where she kissed flushed a light red. “Thanks, sugar. You know me and my tiny bladder.” Emily turned her eyes back towards the oven top while Aubrey stared at Chloe’s yoga pant covered backside.

Beca leaned her head forward and looked at Aubrey accusingly. “How come you never stare at my ass like that? I find it mildly insulting. I have a great ass.”

Stacie nodded in agreement, “Yeah, what’s up with that? You only stare at Chloe’s ass. I think I speak for Emily and Beca too when I say our asses feel neglected.”

“Y’all are ridiculous,” the blonde stammered, her face pinking in the light of their _not-at-all_ true allegations. “I stare at all of y’all equally.”

Her voice took on a slight accent when she got flustered, and Emily was the first to cheek out a response. “Your accent only comes out when you’re like lying about something. It’s especially easy to tell when you start using y’all.” She dropped her voice a bit in a mock whisper, “It’s like super hot though. Don’t stop now.”

Aubrey looked away as the flush spread down her chest. “I don’t mean to,” she drawled, “it just happens.”

Emily took out a beignet, placed it on a paper-towel covered plate that Chloe had prepared. She poked the fried dough to check its readiness, but frowned when it was still slightly soft and not quite airy enough. The beignet was put back in the oil and it continued cooking. “If you stop, I’ll burn your breakfast, Bree,” the brunette threatened.

The accompanying _f_ _ine_ made Emily smile. So did Stacie snickering out, _“whipped,”_ behind a fake cough.

The sound of the toilet flushing and the water running in the half-bath filled the silence that came after the conversation dulled. When Chloe’s head peaked out from the bathroom, her grin could have been seen from outer space it was so bright. She stalked to Aubrey, stopped close to her, then placed her cheeks between her hands and titled her head up. “Are they making fun of your obsession with my butt?” The comment didn’t help Aubrey, and she tried to hide her face in her hands but Chloe wouldn’t let her.

She whimpered, “Maybe,” then added, “I have to let my accent come on through or Em’s gonna burn my breakfast.”

Chloe smirked. “My sweet little girl.” She ruffled Aubrey’s hair affectionately, then turned around to help Emily pull the dough out of the frying oil and place the next batch in. “If you keep up the accent, I’ll let you be the first to be taken on the table.” Aubrey straightened up and a squeak emerged from her throat. “I knew that’d get your attention, babe.”

“Poor Bree, everyone ganging up on her.” Stacie directed her attention to Aubrey, reaching over to pull her into her lap. “I’m on your side, blondie. But that means you take me second on the table, okay?”

Aubrey nodded meekly, embarrassment still at high levels. Her legs were perpendicular to her wife’s, her back against the arm of the chair. An arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her tight, her head falling against Stacie’s amble breasts. After a few moments in which Aubrey let her embarrassment die down, she rasped, “Can y’all be nice now? I’m fixin’ to punish y’all for this.”

“Uh, babe? You’re gonna have to, you know, not talk into my tits if you want to be threatening.”

Her head picked up, and she looked around to see everyone staring at her. There was a wet spot on Stacie’s tank where Aubrey had talked into, but she met everyone’s eyes, daring them to comment about her drooling on Stacie’s breasts (again). They didn’t.

Stacie’s stomach growled again, breaking the tension in the room. “Is breakfast almost ready? I think I’m hungry.”

Chloe gave out a tittering laugh, Beca let out an undignified chortle and Emily giggled. Aubrey’s face didn’t move a muscle, still faux-upset about all the teasing directed at her. “We’ll just take the last of them out of the cast iron and and then it will be,” Chloe chirped, glowing in the banter-filled atmosphere.

A rustle came from Stacie’s chair as Aubrey snuggled deeper into her chair cushion. “Did someone get the syrup out?”

There was a slight sound as the wooden feet of Beca’s chair slid across the floor. “No. But I’ll get it _princess,_ ” Beca sniped. As she walked by the Aubrey-Stacie combination, she pressed a kiss to the blonde hair, taking the sting out of her snark, though she gave a light tug on Stacie’s ponytail. Aubrey knew that could have only had to do with asserting dominance – the two were always playing mind games that the rest of them weren’t privy to.

As Beca pulled the syrup down from the shelf in the large pantry, Chloe belted, “Breakfast is ready!” Stacie stood up as quick as possible, doing her best to keep Aubrey comfortable – legs wrapped around her waist, arms around her neck and face buried in the crook between neck and collarbone – as Stacie carried her to her seat. She set her down gently and then took her own seat at their new dining table. Aubrey was across from her, also at the end of the table, Emily to her left, and Beca sat across from Emily. The spot at the head of the table was left open for the chef, as they always let whoever cooked get the best spot – usually Chloe, but Aubrey cooked on occasion, sometimes getting help from Emily. Beca was probably just as good of a cook as Chloe, Aubrey thought, but she had grown to hate cooking since her parents had divorced during her freshman year at Barden. Which was sad for Beca, and Aubrey felt terrible that she had to go through that, but it was also sad for their taste buds.

Chloe placed down the plate filled with beignets in the center of the table width-wise, right in front of her own plate and Beca’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Why are they so close to you? Scoot them down this way.”

“I’m the cook. It’s my privilege to choose where the food goes. Also, it’s not my fault you’re tiny and have to ask people for everything.”

“You’re literally two inches taller me, Beale. Two inches. You’d think I’m four-foot-eight by the way you talk to me,” Beca griped. Her stomach rumbled in agreement. Chloe took the plate full of beignets and started putting them on her own plate, before passing it to Aubrey on her left. The blonde’s taste buds started salivating as her favorite breakfast was only a foot from her face, waiting for syrup and powdered sugar. She handed the plate over to Emily next, then reached to the center of the table and got the syrup, asked Beca to hand her the powdered sugar. When she got it, she poured a heap on each rectangle then made a pool of syrup on the edge of the plate. As she ate, conversation died down and the five of them enjoyed their breakfast in relative silence, only interrupted by the sounds of eating.

She took the time to examine the new dinning room, finally refurbished and full of new furniture. The hardwood floor’s deep brown color matched with the similarly new wooden table. Beca and Emily had advocated for a more glazed finish to the floor, but Aubrey had deeply protested, and even with Stacie and Chloe staying out of the argument, had won. The slight dips between the different sized planks – both width-wise and lengthwise – created a homey, professional and simultaneously not _too_ professional look, small ridges and bumps in the dips.

The table, though it was a similar color to the floor, had a beautiful red undertone – probably from the first coat of paint – that shone in the early morning light streaking in from the front window. It was white oak, painted over with three coats, according to the store they got it from, and was solid wood. When Aubrey had tried to lift the table at the place, it hadn’t budged; even when she had enlisted the help of the rest of her wives, they had only been able to lift one side of it an inch off the ground. So none of them lifted weights. Big deal.

Aubrey knew that building muscle was something she should probably do, the health benefits were good and she wanted to be able to pick two of her girls up at a time, one in each arm, so that she could throw them on their bed, but she could never muster up the motivation to do it. She blamed that on Beca. Her hatred of physical exercise that _wasn’t_ sex was unbelievably high, having grown from their days as Bellas, must’ve rubbed off on her. She stifled a giggle at her pun, hoping no one had noticed her laughing at nothing.

The white plates they had used for breakfast were old, leftover from the first apartment they had moved into together after their marriage. Well, since the four of them – Stacie, Chloe, Beca, and herself – had all married Emily individually. Their first apartment as a five-person married couple. Chloe wanted to call it a _pentagonal relationship_ , but the rest of them had vetoed it and simple settled on calling it their marriage. It was completely unexpected to her to be in the relationship she was in, but she loved it. She loved being able to come home like she did last night and to kiss all of them and feel showered in their love.

The revelation of just how sappy she had become hit her like a freight train, and she smiled, happy with the development. Chloe looked at her and must have discerned her thoughts, because Aubrey hadn’t been able to stop Chloe from reading her face like it was a Tolkien novel, and put her food down. She reached over and squeezed Aubrey’s right hand with her left, and Aubrey felt content with her life.

Married life had mellowed her out, she decided. When they first started dating, Aubrey would have probably slapped – literally slapped – Chloe’s hand away, and now she found herself waiting and hoping for the next time Chloe or any of her other wives would touch her, be it a quick squeeze, a peck on the lips or a crushing hug.

She also found herself looking forward to the next day more often. Not all the time, but it’s closer to a seventy-thirty split in favor of the future instead of the ninety-ten split against the future it used to be. It’s Emily she _knows_ she has to thank for that new aspect of her personality. There’s nothing quite as heart-warming as not-actually-that-innocent Emily Beale (Emily had been eager to rid herself of _Junk_ as a last name) trying to understand a sex joke that went right over her head, and nothing could make her smile as much as her wife’s enthusiasm at the simplest things, from watching the wind blow through the trees on their ranch to washing dishes. The pure joy she had in everything she did was otherworldly and inspiring.

But out of all her wives, Stacie was the one who had probably had the most impact, at least in terms of doing what she wanted with her life. She was the reason why she took that leap, quit her job and became a fully-fledged novelist. There was something about her that cut right to the heart of the matter without any judgment clouding her vision. It was always needed when she was stuck with writers block and couldn’t figure _why_ her characters would be motivated to do something. Stacie always helped to explain to her the human psyche so well that she called her while her, Emily and Beca were at work, no matter how minor the issue.

Aubrey had finished the beignets that she grabbed from the plate, and now full, wiped her hand on a napkin to rid it of powdered sugar. Her plate was a mess – syrup and powdered sugar and crumbs all mixed together, creating a sludge that she knew would take a second to get off. Her eyes turned from the plate to her hand, which Chloe had still not let go of, eating her food with only her right hand. Their fingers were interlaced, and she turned their hands over, so that Chloe’s was facing up, then examined the ring on Chloe’s ring finger. One-point-six carats of a traditional round-cut diamond set in a simple and elegant yellow gold ring. Next to it, closer to her knuckle, stood the wedding band Aubrey had gotten for Chloe when the two of them had gotten hitched. They were eighteen at the time, and it was all Aubrey could afford; a simple ring of fourteen karat gold, with the words _Put Me Back On_ engraved on the inside. It never ceased to make Aubrey smile when she took the ring off and examined it.

Sighing lightly, she pulled their hands up and placed her lips on Chloe’s, let them linger for a minute. Chloe just squeezed hers in response, but didn’t stop eating, mouth chewing purposefully. Aubrey smiled, white teeth showing, and broke the silence. “I love every one of y’all to the ends of the earth, from the golden fields of wheat to the foam covered ocean. I’ll never stop.”

The four women all looked to the blonde, various expressions on their face: Chloe’s hadn’t changed from earlier, only she was now trying to smile with food in her mouth; Emily’s held an expression of acceptance, buoyed by the love flooding from her eyes and made comical by the morsel of food stored in her cheek; Stacie’s eyebrows had moved upwards, and she grinned suggestively, eyes crinkling at the corners in a look of joy; and Beca looked like she was going to combust, eyes sparking with heat, mouth in an _o_ shape. Beca was the first to respond, saying, “I love you too. But if you start comparing me to wheat, I’m going to take exception to it.” She punctuated her words with a light laugh.

The rest of them joined in, giggling at Aubrey’s declaration for a full twenty-plus seconds. Aubrey let out a small giggle too, realizing her words had been slightly over the top. “I’ll start the dishes,” she articulated, scooting her chair back and standing up. She grabbed her plate, as well as Chloe’s, who had just popped the last bite of her breakfast in her mouth, then walked around her and snagged Stacie’s as well. Her plate was licked clean – she had actually probably licked it clean – with no food in sight. The plate which had previously held the beignets was sitting next to Stacie, empty, and she picked it up as well. She turned around, hair fanning out, and headed to the sink.

As she started washing the dishes, Emily came up next to her and started helping, bringing the rest of the dishes along with her. They all settled into their standard post-meal cleaning activities. Her and Emily at the sink, Beca cleaning the tables and counters, Stacie doing the stove and Chloe sitting at the bar, watching. “Em? Can you dry this? Don’t forget to oil it,” Aubrey asked, handing her the large cast iron pot as they finished up. She walked over to Chloe afterwards, pulled her chair back, then jumped up and into her lap.

“You’re the neediest cuddler I’ve ever met, Bree. More than me, which is saying a lot.” Chloe placed her arms around Aubrey’s waist, clasped her hands together. She maneuvered Aubrey around until they were back to front, Aubrey leaning the side of her head against Chloe’s.

Aubrey let out a soft sigh of contentment, closing her eyes, and Chloe hummed in agreement, tucking a foot underneath herself. “When are you taking me?”

Chloe smirked, not at all surprised by Aubrey’s question. “I was thinking of putting on a show when they finish the kitchen. Maybe lay you down on the table, spread your legs… see where we go from there.”

A soft rumbling sound rang from deep in Aubrey’s chest and she turned her head, began kissing Chloe’s neck. “I’ll take that as –,” she let out a groan as Aubrey nipped at her earlobe, “– _yes._ ” Her last word elongated into a moan, raising in pitch until she was keening. Chloe moved her head away from Aubrey’s mouth, then gently started pushing her forward so that she could stand up and escort her to the table. Aubrey checked to make sure the table was clear, then let Chloe push her down against the wood. “Can I kiss you?” Aubrey met Chloe’s eyes and nodded, confused as to why she was being asked. Chloe must have read the question on her face, because she shrugged her shoulders, knotted her fingers together, and Aubrey understood. _I wanted to be sure_.

The ginger leaned down, a knee on each side of the blonde’s waist, a hand on each side of her head, elbows bent outwards, and let her lips caress her wife’s warm ones. Aubrey exhaled into the kiss, opening her mouth, let Chloe’s tongue taste her. She loved when Chloe was on top of her, especially when she was feeling rather dominant, as she seemed to be feeling now. When her arms ran up Chloe’s sides, she wished the redhead hadn’t changed out of her teddy, because she _really_ loved running her hands up and down her bare thighs and feeling the bare flesh of her wife’s ass against her palm. God, she really was obsessed with it. Chloe pulled back from the kiss, tugging Aubrey’s bottom lip with her until it slipped from her teeth. Aubrey felt Chloe’s arms slide up her sides, tugging the sweatshirt up until it was over her breasts. Her wife’s mouth was suddenly on the flesh right below her left breast, where the bra met her skin, sucking and kissing, moving from left breast to right, then back again.

Aubrey’s stomach coiled with arousal, mind turning to mush as she absently felt hand continue to pull on her top – not Chloe’s she was sure of it, because Chloe’s hands were squeezing her ribs – until the collar was around her head, then the sleeves were being tugged off and she was free, laying on their new table dressed in only a pair of lacy red panties and a more functional black bra. A mouth was on her lips in the next second – Beca’s from the way she was swirling her tongue – and someone’s mouth was on her right thigh, then another on her left, both kissing up and down her bare flesh. She felt a bite on her left thigh, a quick nip but hard enough to leave a lasting mark, then another on her right, and then Chloe had a hand palming one of her breasts – she couldn’t figure out which one, her mind too turned on to think. There was a hand pulling her chest up then reaching around her back to unclasp her bra. The hands started pulling the straps free and then her top would be free and she was so close to Chloe touching her and grabbing her bare breast and then –

A phone rang. _Rang_. Right before her girls were getting to the main course, which was _her._

Who the _fuck_ does that?

Beca didn’t stop kissing her, but the hands that were pulling her bra off stopped and let it slide back down her arms. Chloe pulled back – it must have been her who was stripping her – and let out perhaps the biggest sigh of disappointment that Aubrey had ever heard. “That’s my phone. I am going to _kill_ whoever interrupted us.” At this point, the mouths on her thighs released their grab, placing a soft kiss on the bite marks they had left, and Beca pulled back as well. It was only when she opened her eyes that she realized that Beca was upside down, hovering over her.

“ _Fuck. Me._ ” Aubrey didn’t hold back her anger, and Beca nodded in agreement.

“That’s what we were trying to do. Dammit Chlo. Turn your phone off next time.” It wasn’t often that Beca sounded truly upset, and ever rarer that she said a harsh word to any of them, but she didn’t hold back.

Chloe climbed off the table, rushing to get her phone from the counter. “It’s Amy. She’s FaceTiming. Bree, put your sweatshirt back on. I can take it off again later.”

Aubrey hummed her agreement and leaned forward. Beca re-clasped her bra, then grabbed her sweatshirt and handed it to Aubrey, who put it on. “Ready,” she murmured when she was situated.

She could hear Chloe slide to answer, then Amy’s voice rang through the room. “Chloe! Are you alone? Or are the rest of the mouth-breathers there?”

“Umm… yeah the uh,” she looked confusingly at the phone before continuing, “the _mouth-breathers_ are here. Is there anything we can do for you? We were in the middle of something.” The frustration in her voice was apparent.

“Having an orgy?”

“W-we don’t have _orgies,_ Amy. That’s insulting,” Aubrey admonished.

“Uh-huh. Anyways, I have a job that I need you to do. And before you ask, my kangaroo did not get lose again.”

“What about your wallaby?” Quipped Emily.

“No.”

“The dingo?”

“No – wait, yes, she’s gone. But that’s not the reason I’m calling.”

“O-o-okay…” There was a long pause but Amy didn’t elaborate, so Emily continued her questioning. “Are you going to tell us why you’re calling?”

“Right. Well, I found this really aca-awesome idea but I need your help to plan it so those sexy men in uniforms don’t crash the party.”

Aubrey could hear Stacie whispering to Emily, “Is she talking about the police?”

There was a nod at the corner of her vision and a quiet, “Think so,” coming from Emily.

“What _type_ of party are we talking about, here?” Chloe took control of the conversation, growing more and more annoyed the longer she was separated from Aubrey.

“The type of party where we perform a heist.”

Aubrey froze for a moment before she let out a shrill noise. “A _heist?_ You call us asking to plan a _fucking heist_ for you? You do realize what my previous job was, right?”

When Amy didn’t respond, just stared blankly at Aubrey, Beca filled her in. “A _goddamn F.B. fucking I. Agent._ She can’t be serious, right? _”_ Beca looked at Aubrey, then Chloe, who was frozen in place.

Stacie was the next to recover: “What does this heist entail?”

Aubrey quickly leaned forward and shoved Stacie. “You can _not_ be serious right now, Stace. We are not entertaining this idea for a second.” She turned to face the phone again. “I should turn you in right now, Amy.”

“Yeah but you won’t because you’re secretly dying to know what the plan is.”

Aubrey gaped at Fat Amy, sputtered, “That’s not – that’s not true. I..” she trailed off, her mind racing. “I don’t want to know,” she confirmed to Amy, herself, her wives, she wasn’t sure which – though she realized how weak it sounded, more like a question than a no.

And then Chloe jumped in. And Emily. “I’m down,” they said simultaneously.

Her head snapped to Beca, warned, “Don’t you fucking dare, Beca.”

The diminutive brunette held up her hands as she shifted forward, sitting next to Aubrey, their legs pressed together as they dangled off the edge of the table. “I’m,” she paused – probably to piss Aubrey off, “with you, babe. Seriously. What the fuck are you three thinking?” But then Aubrey noticed Beca grinning at Emily, betraying her, and she fumed, before softening slightly.

Stacie, now sitting in a chair, looked at Emily from the other side of Aubrey and Beca. “Judging by the amount of swearing Aubrey is doing, I don’t think this is going to go over well.”

Emily agreed, “I don’t think she’s ever sworn this much. Like ever.” Stacie just nodded.

There was no way she was going to agree to this. Aubrey knew herself quite well. A heist would go against everything she stood for. And yet… she could feel herself itching for a challenge, a danger she hadn’t been able to get since she quit her job. When Chloe handed the phone to Emily and walked in front of her, placing a hand on each of her thighs… the second she made eye contact with the blue eyes, she knew she would be caving. Sometimes she really hated her thrill for danger.

Nothing turned her on like being shot at. And Chloe must have known this, because she slid a hand up the inside of her thigh, lightly rubbing against the bite marks covering her skin. “I know how much you love danger, Bree.” When Aubrey opened her mouth to protest, Chloe pressed her lips to hers to silence her, then pulled back. “I know you do. We _all_ know you do. Think about how much fun this would be. A true bonding experience. We could reconnect with all the Bellas, get filthy rich, maybe put in that walk-in shower you wanted.”

“I… I…” She knew that it was just a matter of time before she gave in. But she wasn’t going to give up without a fight. “No. No. We are not committing a federal crime just for fun, Chloe Beale.” She straightened up, putting on her fighting face.

Beca reached over and grabbed her right hand, sandwiched it between her two hands, then squeezed it. “Please, Bree? Everyone else is in but you.” Aubrey shook her head no, then pulled her hand away from Beca – or tried to, but Beca didn’t let go.

Then there was a pair of lips on her neck and she gasped. “Please?” Emily pleaded around the flesh of her neck. And another pair of lips joined Emily’s, biting the collarbone on the other side.

Aubrey groaned.

Fat Amy, who had been stunningly silent, finally spoke. “Is that a yes?”

Aubrey groaned again, then nodded ever so slightly, and Chloe, who had been studying her face, squealed. “She said _yes_!”

Aubrey knew she was going to regret this.


	2. Chapter 2

Aubrey let some air blow past her lips, exasperated. “So, what, _exactly_ , are we going to be stealing?” She hated herself for saying it. Saying that they were going to commit a crime, a crime in which they were probably going to go to jail for.

Which would truly ruin her life. She had to make sure that no one got hurt, or they were well and truly done for in the court system.

“Well, there’s this place in New York where people put their stuff to protect it from muskrats and rhinos.” Aubrey just stared blankly at the phone-Fat Amy, trying to understand what the crap spewing from her mouth meant.

Beca must have seen how annoyed she was getting and was quick to interpret for her: “She’s talking about a bank in New York, babe.” She placed a soothing hand on her back, slipping it underneath her sweatshirt to calm her down. Her short nails slowly scratched up and down her spine, and the muscles in her back slowly relaxed under the ministrations.

“Which bank?” Amy was silent. Aubrey was beginning to get angry again, the tips of her ears turning red. Getting information from Amy was like pulling teeth out by hand, and Amy usually couldn’t stop blurting out information. So that made Aubrey suspicious of what bank Amy had chosen for them to rob. Very suspicious. “Amy,” she warned, “spit it out, or I’m going to fly to New York, immediately, and have you arrested for conspiracy to commit a crime.” She was bluffing – a phone call was not enough evidence to get Amy convicted, but she hoped it would motivate the woman to talk.

It did. “The Chase bank, the one with the recycling sign for their logo.”

Jesus Christ. She wanted to rob the largest bank in the entire country. Their headquarters, no less. “Amy, I just want you to know that I’ve never hated you more than I do in this moment.” Her hands were squeezing into fists, clenching then unclenching. She looked down at her hands, noticed that they had risen to chest level without any conscious thought. Chloe’s gaze was worried, because she hadn’t done that since they were seventeen, the night her mom got so drunk she wasted all of Aubrey’s college fund on a _cat_.

She pulled her hands down, placed them on her thighs and Chloe turned around from her spot in between her thighs so that Chloe’s back was against her front. Her wife pushed her back a little from the edge of the table so that she could have a spot and parked her rear flush against her front. Chloe pulled her arms around her waist and Aubrey felt herself relax at the familiar motion, squeezing her tightly before pressing her nose in between the shoulder blades in front of her.

She kissed the skin there and let Chloe try to defuse the tension between her and Amy. Tension snapping was one of Chloe’s best qualities.

She began to relax but stiffened when she felt the clasp of her bra become unlatched again. She turned her head to look at Beca, annoyed, but too exhausted to start a fight. Beca smiled at her shyly, obviously hoping that she wouldn’t get mad at her: “My hands kept getting caught in the strap and I didn’t want to accidentally snap you with it.” She nodded, the whatever fight she had left draining out of her as she realized Beca was just looking out for her.

“Thank you, Beca. I appreciate it.” She placed her cheek against Chloe’s warm skin, happy that Chlo wasn’t a fan of shirts with anything more than a tie to keep the front from flapping up.

“I think, what Aubrey meant to say was, ‘This isn’t going to be easy, but we can do it,’” Chloe explained to the phone. Aubrey shook her head _no_ against Chloe’s back, feeling the vibrations reverberate through her head. It really _wasn’t_ what she meant to stay. “Em? Do you think you could go and grab the lotion underneath my sink? The one with the blue cap and white bottle. It should say _For Stress_ on it. Bring a washcloth too.”

The singer jumped into action before Chloe had finished, and Aubrey was grateful for her beyond belief, right now. She murmured out a soft _thanks_ into the skin in front of her and sighed when she felt Beca’s nails scratch lightly at the base of her neck.

Absently, she heard Chloe get off the phone with Amy, having taken the phone from Emily. Something about her being overwhelmed, which was true. If she didn’t calm down, she was likely to vomit, and she hadn’t done that in close to seven years, back when she was a trainee.

All she needed to do was take some deep breaths and she’d be fine.

In. Out.

In. Out.

Her concentration was broken by Chloe: “Stace, can you go get the table? The massage one. It’s in the closet by the front door.”

There was a kissing sound – she assumed it was Stacie saying yes to Chloe – then a pair of feet walked past the table on her left side, heading to the front door closet. Her ears tuned out any other sounds and she focused on the scratch of Beca’s nails on her back, the feel of Chloe’s waist beneath her hands and her own breathing.

In. Out.

In. Out.

Her mind began wondering, thinking back to her first dog. A Pomeranian-beagle mix with white hair. Small; perfect for holding when her dad was at work and her mom was plastered, angrily yelling at her. Her dad had given him to her when she was fifteen, for her birthday, the year she met Chloe. She squeezed her arms around Chloe, tight. Chloe’s appearance in her life had been a Godsend, giving her a place to go when her mom was having a fit.

The sound of a table being unfolded snapped her mind out her reminiscing. She opened her eyes and pulled her head away from Chloe’s back, turning her attention to the table being set up. Emily had returned as well, the bottle of lotion in her hands. Beca removed her hand from underneath her sweatshirt, then helped Chloe to stand her up and strip her down. After a second, she was standing naked before her wives, but instead of the usual arousal she saw in their eyes, it was nothing but love and worry, hoping she’d be alright.

She gave them a terse nod, then walked to the table and laid down on her front, face poking through the headrest of the table. A couple drops of cold lotion hit her shoulders, a few more along her spine, and then a thin line going down each of her legs. She couldn’t tell who had which body part, but when they all started pressing their hands against her muscles, she sighed out a sound of relief, then she became silent and focused on what the hands were doing to her. Small hands on her left leg, fiercely kneading the back of her thigh. A tiny bit larger hands on her right leg, where the flesh of her thigh met her ass. The largest pair of hands were on her shoulders, so that must’ve been Stacie, squeezing the tension out of her muscles. Another pair of small hands were on the lower area of her back, kneading the muscles there – Emily, maybe, but it could’ve easily been Chloe.

They all knew how to make her muscles nearly fall off the bone. Her mind swam and slipped into nothing but thoughts of what was happening on her back, and it was nearly an hour later when she realized they had stopped. A couple words came into her ears, not making any sense. _Stupid_ , from Beca (but it could’ve been Emily, or Stacie, or Chloe; she was still out of it). _She looks so…_ from Chloe, but she didn’t catch who she was talking about or the end of her statement. _You can’t be serious,_ coming from a squeal that could only be Emily, then a moan, too deep to be anyone but Stacie, followed by a _not without Bree_ from Emily. Were they having sex while she was nearly comatose? She was going to be mad at them for that, later.

Her mind swam again. What was she going to be mad about? Sex? Yes, it was about sex. Not getting enough sex? Too much sex? No, that couldn’t be it. Maybe Beca propositioned Kommissar again? Possible, but unlikely. Maybe she did. When she thought of Beca calling the German, all she could think of was arousal at taking the woman down – whether with sex or humiliation. But she didn’t quite understand what her mind was thinking about. Why was she thinking about that terrible German woman? Then her mind slipped again.

Her mind eclipsed into blackness.

* * *

 

A hand on her shoulder shook her awake. She shook her head no, then grew confused when she could barely move it. Was she on her front? She had to be. The massage, Fat Amy… it came back to her in fits. There was a voice in her ear, telling her to get up. She tried to say no, but it just came out as a groan.

“Aubrey, babe? It’s time to get up. You’ve been shivering for the last fifteen minutes and you need to put some clothes on.” Had she been shivering? She felt fine now – until a shiver wracked through her body and she realized that she actually _was_ freezing.

She pulled her arms up, placed them on each side of her chest, then pushed up. Her back felt amazing, more relaxed than it had been in months, her legs were jelly and she twisted her body so that her legs were hanging off the table. Her arms fell against her sides when she was fully sitting up, then there was a hand pulling each arm out to her front. Her bra. That’s what they were doing. She opened her eyes and confirmed her guess, her black bra was being slid up her arms, then clasped and she repositioned it so that it was comfortable against her skin. She saw Emily down on her knees, putting her panties back on, moving them up her legs. The panties stopped when they hit the table and she looked at Emily’s face.

“Can you stand up for me, Bree?” Aubrey nodded her head, then slowly slid off. She nearly fell as she grew used to her own weight again, but Emily was there to catch here, right after she slid her underwear up the rest of the way. “I got you. Don’t worry.” She nodded into Emily’s shoulder, thankful for her closeness.

Beca and Chloe, from what she could tell, each raised an arm of hers up, Stacie slipping the sweatshirt on her. She stepped away from Emily and let it fall on her sides, tugging the collar around her face. She was dressed – except for a pair of pants, but she was warm now and didn’t want to go through that effort.

“Thank y’all. I needed that.” She looked at them appreciatively, now fully cognizant of her surroundings and her girls. Stacie grabbed her hand and she squeezed back, then let herself be dragged to the couch.

Emily stood next to her, pressed a kiss to her check, sat down, then dragged Aubrey on top of her. Stacie sat on Emily’s left, Beca next to her and Chloe on Emily’s right. The muscles on her back relaxed and she leaned into the gap between Chloe and Emily, back slightly resting against Chloe’s shoulder, legs unfolded onto Stacie and Beca’s laps.

The sound of her voice drew their eyes towards her: “What’s the plan? Did you get any more information from Amy?”

Beca exchanged a look with Stacie, rubbed their thighs together, said, “Some. Apparently, they’re going to be holding a bunch of money in this vault that’s not in the original design plans.”

“Like an illegal development thingy,” Chloe explained from behind her.

“How much is a bunch of money, Beca?” The blonde was quite curious at this point, choosing to let her anger fade away rather than simmer.

“Maybe like half a billion?”

Her jaw dropped, head shot forward and her hands grabbed Emily’s hands, which had been resting in her lap. That was a _lot_ of money. Her day had suddenly gotten a lot brighter, and she no longer felt quite as ill at what they were going to do. “Like half a billion? Are you aca-serious right now? Because if you’re not, we’re going to be having some issues, _Be-ca._ ”

“More than half a billion,” her voice intoned. “Amy said it was closer to like six-hundred million dollars.”

She pressed a hand to her chest in astonishment. “Oh my goodness. I don’t… I, uh…” She trailed off, not sure what to say. Chloe’s giggle could be felt through her chest, and Emily leaned forward, pressing their foreheads together.

“I passed out when Amy told us.” Of course Emily did. She always was prone to fainting.

She cleared her throat, then turned her body so that she was now laying down across the laps of her wives. Her hands squeezed Emily’s again, and she felt Beca’s nails trace up and down her calves. Stacie laid her hands on top of thighs and left them there; Chloe’s hands threaded through her hair, slightly-longer-than-Beca’s nails scratching her scalp.

Aubrey closed her eyes before she asked the only question left: “So what’s the plan?”

* * *

 

They didn’t have a plan. At all. All the time she had been out of it, and they hadn’t even managed to come to a rudimentary plan. Even something like, _We think we should break in during the night_ , would have been welcomed. Literally _anything_ was better than nothing. Except for prison. Which was where they were probably heading.

She sighed and opened her eyes. “Call Amy again. I want to know how she got this information.” Her thumbs rubbed the back of Emily’s hand, feeling the slight bumps there, thought about how grateful she was for Emily being in her life.

“Are you sure? You didn’t do too good last time we talked to her, blondie.” Stacie. Stacie was always looking out for her mental health.

“I’ll go more insane if I don’t get my questions answered,” the blonde snapped. She took a few deep breaths, tried to let go of the anger that seemed to keep rising and falling inside of her chest. She thought she had banished that particular emotion earlier, but she was wrong. She didn’t like being wrong. She had just learned to not let anyone see how much it upset her.

Stacie obliged, slightly rattled.

“I’m sorry Stace. I didn’t mean to snap,” Aubrey apologized. She just got a sorry-looking smile in response.

The call tone rang out from Chloe’s phone, and Aubrey pulled her legs out from underneath Beca’s hands, sat up, then slid off Emily’s lap and stood up. She couldn’t do this sitting down. She needed to pace. Pacing made thinking easier.

The call tone ended and a voice came through the line. “Did Aubrey finally wake up from her sex-coma?” Sex-coma? If that’s what they had told Amy what had happened, she was going to slap them. All of them.

Her eyes raised accusingly at the four still sitting on the couch. Chloe’s right hand stroked the soft, red material of the couch arm guiltily, eyes avoiding hers. “For serious, Chlo?”

The blue eyes met hers slowly, then mumbled, “I had to get her to stop asking.”

Her voice became taut, condescending. “So you decided to tell her y’all fucked me into a coma. Great logic.” Her accent was becoming too common, accelerated by her anger.

She turned from her wives, heard as Stacie’s arms pushed her up. A couple of steps along the wood floor and then a pair of hands were turning her around. “Relax, Bree. Amy’s slept with Bumper. Her life couldn’t be any worse. Let her have some fun.”

“Why the hell would you mention _Bumper?_ That’s disgusting.” She let her anger focus on Bumper, glad to have an outlet. She really needed to get this anger under control; if a massage didn’t work, she wasn’t sure what would. Her head turned to the phone, said, “Amy, how did you get ahold of this information?”

“I found it in a thing my dad left for me,” Fat Amy answered.

Aubrey did _not_ want to know how she found it. Probably had to do with a weird sex act. Gross. “How much money do they keep in this _vault_?” She asked, wanting confirmation of the amount. “Do you have plans for the building? Who all is going to be in on this? And if you say Bumper, I will _not_ be helping you.”

There was a rustle as Amy pulled the phone away from herself, then she heard the large woman yell: “You’re out, Bumper!” There was another rustling sound, followed by Amy lowering her voice slightly. “Sorry, I’ve got him tied up to the bed upstairs. Makes it hard to understand what he’s saying, what with the stuff in his mouth.”

“Amy! That is...” Aubrey trailed off, unable to put the horror she was experiencing into words. Stacie shook her head in agreement and revulsion, eyes scrunching shut as if that could get the image out of her mind and the sound out of her ears.

Chloe only looked slightly grossed out, but she shook it off quickly, prodding Amy to answer Aubrey’s questions. “And what about the rest of the questions?”

“Oh. Right. Supposedly it’s about six-thousand bricks, if the man in the basement isn’t lying. And he said he’d give us the plans if I let him go.”

Aubrey nodded at the phone, ignoring the part about the man in the basement. She’d deal with that later. “You better not be talking about bricks of cocaine, Amy. We may be breaking the law, but _we_ will _not_ be aiding the Mexican drug cartels. That is far worse than a regular robbery. Plus, why would a bank have cocaine?” Then she thought back to her training, about slang words for money. She had no idea how Amy knew about brick meaning a hundred-thousand dollars, but she guessed she shouldn’t have been surprised.

“A brick means one-hundred-thousand dollars, girls,” Aubrey lectured to the women in the room. “I’m sorry. I forgot what it meant for a second. I didn’t expect Amy of all people to know what it meant.”

Beca gave her a reassuring smile, was the next to talk: “So there’s us five, then you Amy. Is it safe to assume Lilly is in? And I’d guess Flo, Jessica and Ashley, too.” She paused, then made eye contact with Aubrey. “I texted CR and she said the Missus wouldn’t let her, so she’s out.” Aubrey gave her a faint smile, thankful for her help.

“Yeah,” Amy drew out, “shorty is right. Somehow.”

Aubrey ducked her head then raised it in agreement. “Somehow,” she confirmed. “It’s always a mystery to me.”

Beca stood up and walked over to her, then squeezed her thumb and forefinger and pinched Aubrey’s arm. “To think I once loved you,” she said mockingly, then turned around and settled into Aubrey’s spot in Emily’s lap.

Aubrey let out a small giggle, letting the slight pain fade away. She shook her head, then focused on the phone. “Amy, I need you to send me all the information you have. Use an encrypted email address.” She nodded to herself. “That is all.”

As Chloe went to end the call, her finger hovered over the _end_ button. “Amy?” She questioned. “How long is this info good for?”

Aubrey gave another small smile, this time aimed at Chloe. Chloe, always thinking of the things she wasn’t.

“Uh...” Amy hesitated, thinking. “Probably about a month. I think that’s what the man said. Then they’d start slowly moving it.”

“Right. Thank you, Amy. That was surprisingly lucid,” Aubrey insulted. Chloe pressed the end button, just as eager to get off the phone as Aubrey.

A deep sigh emitted from Aubrey’s lips, and Stacie wrapped her arms around her in a hug, squeezing her. An _I’m sorry_ worked its way into Aubrey’s brain, and she pulled her head away from Stacie, kissed her. She voiced the words her brain was narrating to her, truly sorry for snapping at Stacie. “I really just got stressed. It’s no excuse, however, Stace. Forgive me?”

The large-breasted woman’s eyes gave her her answer. _Yes_. The woman smirked once she was certain Aubrey had understood. “Now, I believe that you promised to take me against the table after your turn.”

She let out a happy grin, pleased at the change in the conversation. “If I remember, I never finished.” She stepped out of the arms that were wrapped around her, then settled her hands on the bottom of her sweatshirt. “I believe this is Em’s shirt I’m wearing. It’s hers to take off,” she winked suggestively at Emily.

There was a gasp, then a groan of frustration from Emily. “Beca! Let me go! She just asked me take her clothes off.”

A smirk emerged from Beca’s lips. “Maybe she shouldn’t have insulted me. That means everyone gets punished.”

“Oh. That’s so petty. Typical Beca, ear monstrosities and all,” Aubrey teased.

Another sound came from the couch, but from Chloe this time. Beca had moved her hand to cover Chloe’s thigh, squeezed it tight teasingly. “I stopped wearing them after our ninth date! You kept saying they got in the way of kissing me!”

Aubrey’s smile became predatory. Beca had left out the part about how much she enjoyed her earlobes being nibbled on. “Aren’t you forgetting a crucial part of that? A part about your ears.” She advanced towards the girl menacingly.

Beca shrunk back into Emily in response. “I d-don’t know what you’re talking about.” She raised her head haughtily, but it couldn’t cover the way she was blushing, from the tips of her ears to the tops of her breasts. Aubrey licked her lips, appreciating the tight, white shirt Beca had on, the swells of her breasts that peaked out of the top.

Sex was always enough to distract her from her problems. She had no idea how she’d forgotten it earlier.

“I think you do,” Aubrey sing-songed seductively. She reached the couch, then got down on her knees, looking up at Beca’s face, Emily’s right behind her. “ _Be-ca_. Don’t lie to me. If you don’t confess, I’m going to have to punish you.”

Beca squirmed in Emily’s lap, trying to get as far from Emily as possible. Beca shook her head _no,_ her eyes belaying the desire and want she had when she thought about being punished. Aubrey loved punishing Beca – loved being the enforcer in their family. “Are you going to tell me about your little _kink?_ ” Beca shook her head negatively, hair smacking Emily in the face. Emily didn’t seem to notice, too enraptured in the back-and-forth.

Aubrey leaned back, straightened her spine. She blew out a sigh from her lips, blowing her hair out of her face. “Fine Beca. We’re going to do this the hard way.’” She grabbed Beca’s hands, then pulled the small girl up. Her slight frame made it easy to pick her up and throw her over her shoulder, ignoring the words of protest from Beca’s mouth. She began her way to their room, stopped, said, “Who wants to help punish Beca?”

There was a quick flurry of movement, and then the five of them went up to their room. When they got to their room, she tossed Beca onto the bed gently, closed her eyes, then raised her arms. “Emily? I believe we had an agreement on who gets to undress me.” There was a giggle, then a pair of hands grabbed the clothing and pulled it up and off Aubrey, leaving her in her underthings.

Aubrey turned to face the bed, eyes focusing on the woman lying on the bed. “Legs? Tits? Red?” She questioned. “How should I punish her?” She grinned at the responses that came in.

* * *

 

Later, after they were too tired to continue, the group of them snuggled together, out of position: Aubrey on the left, Emily spooning her; next to Emily was Beca, head laying on Chloe’s chest as Stacie laid her head down on the other side of Chloe, looking at Beca and continuing to nip at Chloe’s body. Aubrey could still hear the slight moans from Chloe, and the breathless sighs as Beca watched. She pulled Emily’s arms tight around her before turning her head to look at her the best she could. “It’s on nights like these that I’m glad Stacie has four women to please. Because I remember when she used to run us – before you came into our lives – into the ground. I was constantly nearly running late to work because she would require two hours a night. It’s hard for even three people to fulfill those needs.”

Emily grinned at her out of the corner of her eye, then placed a kiss to her temple. “Is that all I’m good for, some extra sleep?” Emily teased.

Aubrey frowned for a second, but when she realized her precious Emily was teasing her, she turned her head forward and let out a harrumph, said, “I’m not even going to answer that question.”

There was a hum of contentment from the woman wrapped around her, and she melted just a little more into her arms. Post-coital cuddling was always one of her favorite times, even with the sounds of Stacie’s unending libido at work. “Em, baby? Do you think we’re going to get caught?”

The brunette paused, considered the situation. She let out a contemplative sound, then shook her head _no_ against Aubrey’s shoulders. “I know you’re going to keep us safe and make us rich. And show me a good time.”

“Are you asking for another one right now?” Another shake of the head against her back. “Good, because I’m too tired. My arms burn from Beca’s punishment.” A grin sneaked out of Aubrey’s lips, and she turned around in Emily’s arms and pressed their lips together then pulled back slowly. “Remember our first night? Just the two of us?”

“Of course I do,” Emily responded softly, “I cried for half an hour afterwards.”

Aubrey’s lips quirked as she thought back to four years ago, a month after they had started dating Emily. “You wanted to be with only me your first time. I nearly cried at the sentimentality of it all. I was Chloe’s first. You gave me the honor of being your first, something I can’t treasure enough. You wanted me to be the first to make love to you. I still can’t understand why I was given that privilege.” By the end of her short speech, she was sniffling slightly, and Emily’s eyes had begun watering.

“Because I knew you’d be the most caring a-and the most understanding,” Emily choked out. “You knew how long I waited to be with someone, and you understood _why_.” The singer let out a soft sob, then said, “I’m crying again. Of course.” She leveled off, then sighed dramatically.

Aubrey gave her a pensive look, examining the tear tracks on her face. She lifted her right arm up, and gently wiped her face clear off the small tears, moved forward and pressed a kiss below each eye. “I love how emotional you are. Please don’t hide it.” She leaned their foreheads together, and the two of them shared a quick – very quick – moment of silence, before it was broken by a loud keening noise coming from Chloe, and a grunt from Stacie. Her lips turned into a smirk and she whispered to Emily, “What do you think Stace is using on Chlo?”

“From the way the bed’s moving, definitely a strap-on,” Emily giggled out. Aubrey nodded her agreement. “I’m more interested in what Beca’s doing, babe. Can you check?”

Aubrey pushed up on her elbow and looked over the side of Emily, confirming her guess. “She fell asleep. I think I saw a pile of drool on Chloe’s nipple. But that could have been from Stace. They’re both such boob men,” she snorted.

“Good thing you’re the Ass Man, huh?”

A small – but exceedingly happy and cheerful – squeal squeezed past Aubrey’s lips: “When did you start watching Seinfeld? Was it while I was gone? Because you know how much I love that show. Friends is better my ass. You agree with me, right?” Aubrey shot off her questions in quick succession, excited that maybe she’d have someone to wax poetic about the genius of a single episode of Seinfeld.

“I still like Friends better.” Emily shrugged apologetically, “Sorry, sweetie.” Aubrey gave her a light push in the stomach with the back of her hand and Emily let out an _oomph_. “Don’t be rude. I’m your wife.”

Aubrey only responded by pushing her again, and Emily pulled the arm around Aubrey’s waist tight, bringing her in close so she couldn’t push her another time. “I think they fell asleep, Legs. Should we?”

“Nope! I want to keep talking. I haven’t had a chance since you left,” Emily pouted.

She frowned exaggeratedly, and Aubrey gave in. “What do you want to talk about? How we’re going to have sex in prison?”

Emily paused, moved her head on the pillow until she could see clearly into Aubrey’s eyes, and began scratching her nails up and down the blonde’s bare back. “Do you think they’ll put us into a room together?”

The novelist watched as the brunette’s eyes scrunched up and she sighed. “I don’t think so. Maybe if we get a nice judge. If we do this the way I’m thinking, and still get caught, we shouldn’t get more than ten years. If we plead guilty, I think we could swing it. Leave the other three to fend for themselves. What do you say?”

A large grin emerged from the other girl, and she nodded happily. “Of course. Maybe we can get Chloe in our cell too. Let Stacie and Beca fend for themselves.”

“You’ve been spending too much time with Beca, babe. Talking bad about your wives...” Aubrey trailed off, tapping her finger against her lips contemplatively. “I think you deserved the punishment, not Beca.”

A snort came from Emily, and she pulled her hand up to cover her mouth and nose, embarrassed. She shook her head, trying to rid herself of the sound that had just come out of her while Aubrey laughed at her. “ _Anyways_ , back to the point, Bree. What’re you thinking for the heist? It’s got me so excited! I’ve never broken a law before!”

That wasn’t at all unexpected coming from Emily, so Aubrey just ignored the last comment. “You’re just too adorable, Em.” Aubrey smiled at her wife, and placed a tender kiss on her lips, letting their lips stay fused together for a few moments. She pulled back, and murmured, “Well, I want to get the building plans before I make any final decisions. But, here’s what I’ve got…”

Aubrey began her explanation, and Emily nodded along accordingly, only asking questions for clarification when Aubrey paused. “So, what do you think?”

Her wife took a second to think the plan over, before nodding firmly. “It sounds like a genius thought about it,” she flattered.

A light blush covered Aubrey’s cheeks, and she let her wife’s praise wash over her for a second. “It’s just my training talking. But thank you, darling. I love you.” Emily’s cheeks pinked beautifully, and Aubrey knew that this was a moment she would treasure forever, just a moment between the two of them. Aubrey rolled onto her back, and tugged Emily on top of her, so that she was in a better position to kiss her. Emily placed her elbows on either side of Aubrey’s head and leaned into the lips in front of her, meeting them with a fervor she hadn’t had a second ago.

When Aubrey receded into the pillow to open her mouth and take a breath, Emily surprised her by taking control and slipping her tongue into her mouth. She couldn’t figure out what had come over the slender brunette, something she had never done with any of them. Maybe the thought of danger made her aggressive, and if so, Aubrey was going to do her best to get them into more danger. Emily’s tongue twirled in her mouth, and a loud moan came from the back of the blonde’s throat before Aubrey could quiet it for her wives’ sake. The naked body pressed against hers started moving and the arousal in Aubrey’s stomach coiled tightly as her nails pressed firmly into Emily’s back.

Another moan escaped from the two of them, this time from Emily, and she pulled out of the kiss, gasping for air. “I-I… sh-should we s-stop? I’m going to make you scream w-way too loudly.”

Aubrey rested her head on the pillow, lifting her chin up to open up her airway. “Y-yeah. You’re right. I’m too loud,” she sighed out, disappointed. She extended her arm out, pushing Emily off of her chest: “Your body is too much. I don’t think I can touch you again with combusting.”

Emily agreed begrudgingly. The two separated, leaving only a slight gap between their arms, arm hairs nearly brushing. “Sooo,” she dragged out, “the bank plan was good.”

They both giggled after a second pause, turning their heads towards each other. Aubrey slid her hand over Emily’s, tangling their fingers together. “I think, if we’re diligent on the time, we should be able to make it out alright.”

Her hand was squeezed tightly, and she took that for agreement, thinking about how Beca would deal with the plan.

Beca hated danger. Chloe wasn’t a big fan of it either, which made both of their decisions to go along with Amy’s ridiculous plan more interesting.

She pulled Emily’s hand up to her lips, placed a kiss, then let it fall back in between the two of them. Aubrey closed her eyes, and felt Emily’s breathing even out as the two of them joined their wives in sleep.

* * *

 

Aubrey’s eyes snapped open with a start, startling herself into consciousness. She had an idea. An idea for the heist – much better than the one she had told Emily about.

She quickly rolled herself off of Emily and slipped out of bed, feet padding against the wood floor softly. She nearly ran to her office downstairs, completely forgetting to get dressed in her haste to not forget her genius plan. A pencil and a piece of paper quickly found their way into her hands, and she sat at her desk and began writing as fervently as she could, signing into her computer and checking the plans that Amy had sent as well.

The building had a fatal weakness from what she had remembered from her FBI training, something completely unknown to the rest of the public. If she could figure out how to attack it in the right way…

And she knew how to attack it, how to take advantage of the building’s direct connection to an old subway line that had been closed close to fifteen years before construction on the building had even broke ground.

It took nearly a half hour to get the full plan on the yellow legal pad she was using, and when she did, she relaxed. She noticed, finally, that she was completely nude, it was still exceedingly dark outside, and when she looked at her hand, Aubrey could see the graphite that had smeared on the pad of her hand from where it had been wresting against the paper.

Aubrey stood up slowly, felt the AC on her warm skin, then walked slowly back up the stairs to her bathroom and cleansed herself of the evidence of her writings. She then returned to the bed and slipped into it, crawling over Emily to lay between her and Beca. Her arms and legs flopped out, and Aubrey let out a weary sigh, tired from her sudden rush to the study, and let her head relax against the pillow.

Tomorrow she’d go and thoroughly examine what her mind had churned out, but for now, she was content to let it go and go back to sleep.

* * *

 

When Aubrey awoke on Sunday morning, she felt good. Much better than the tumultuous Saturday she’d had, and to prove it, she got started on cleaning the house up – a task she had forgotten about yesterday. She dressed for the day, picked up all of the discarded clothes on the floor, then took them all downstairs to wash them, separating them out into whites and coloreds, delicates and regular wash.

The kitchen was clean from yesterday – which was expected, since they’d only had a very late breakfast and a light snack between rounds last night. Her stomach growled when she realized that she’d missed two meals, an idea foreign to her schedule driven mind.

Aubrey began making breakfast for herself when she remembered that she had woken up and made a new plan for the Chase building, and she nearly dropped the pan she was holding. She couldn’t remember any specifics of the plan, except for the general idea that it was a genius idea.

She finished making breakfast and ate quickly, then strode over to the office and sat at her desk, examining her plan. It was more similar to the one she had told Emily about than she remembered, but it was genuinely a good idea. Her insides became giddy, excited at the ability to plan something out that would have a real effect on the world – against a corrupt bank, no less. Then again, she noted, most banks large enough to be noticed by the government were corrupt, so it was really just a matter of information on which to choose – information that Amy had provided.

She knew that this wasn’t really a message to banks – nothing like _La Casa de Papel_ was to the government – but she hoped it could mean something to some people. It wouldn’t hurt any of their customers, anyways; the money was all insured. She knew she wasn’t exactly justified in her crime, but every little bit of rationalization helped to cleanse her conscious.

It was another half hour of revising her plan and double-checking everything Amy sent her before she heard her family make their way downstairs, calling out for her. She responded with a soft, “In the office,” and they were joining her in the room shortly.

She looked up when she heard the last pair of feet cross the threshold, noticed their curious looks, and gave them a simple command, eager to begin preparing: “We leave for New York in two weeks. Here’s what I need each of you to do,” she began, handing each of them a list of things for them to do and walking them through it.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Please, leave a review. It can be about anything: grammar mistakes, spelling mistakes, constructive criticism on my writing style, and/or how I could improve. 
> 
> I have very little idea where this story might go, so if you have any suggestions, feel free to let me know.
> 
> Lastly, don't expect regular updates. I'll write when I can, but I should be getting pretty busy starting soon.


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